


Release

by tomatopudding



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-18
Updated: 2009-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little something I wrote between seasons 4 and 5, so it disregards season 5. Warnings: Character death by suicide. House thinks about what would happen if he died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

Release

He could do it if he wanted to.

It would be so simple to just get away from it all.

He fingers the sharp metal and it nicks his skin.

A drop of blood blossoms on his finger.

He wipes it on his jeans, ignoring the sting of rough denim on torn flesh.

He thinks.

What if he did it?

Cuddy.

She would keep still.

Silent tears streaming down leaving wet streaks on pale cheeks,

smearing dark back eyeliner,

running over bright red lips,

dripping off her chin.

Chase.

Chase wouldn't cry

He would be silent and unmoved on the outside,

inside his heart would sob like a child who has lost its mother.

Cameron.

Cameron would be the opposite of Cuddy.

She would sob openly,

great gulps of air,

wrapping her arms around Chase's waist,

wetting his shirt.

Foreman.

What would Foreman do?

He would do nothing,

show nothing,

feel nothing.

Wilson.

Wilson was complicated.

He would laugh.

Good riddance to bad rubbish!

He would cackle.

He killed Amber!

Serves the bastard right!

He would cry,

almost as loud as Cameron, but not quite.

He would kneel by the grave

and his tears would dampen the ground,

covering it in

warm,

salty,

wetness

that would seep through the earth until it met the blockade

that was the casket.

He sat and contemplated this,

fingers still caressing the sharp scalpel

he had stolen from the OR

earlier that day.

Before he can change his mind,

he writes,

short and to the point

He takes out his pager and sends a message to the familiar number

The scalpel moves to his warm throat

as if it had a mind of its own.

He cuts deep,

Stopping himself from crying out

as metal pierces flesh.

Epidermis.

Dermis.

He thinks to himself

as the blade slices through each layer.

The scalpel falls from his fingers

and clatters to the floor

its sound muffled slightly

by thin carpet.

He falls on the ground,

His last breath a sigh of relief

as he is released from all burdens.

All pain.

A pool of slick,

slimy,

wet,

red,

blood forms around his severed jugular and head.

The door bursts open revealing Wilson.

He chokes at the sight of that body.

Wilson cries, his face turning blotchy.

He cries harder than he did for her.

He pages Cuddy.

He falls to his knees and sees the note

written hastily on a scrap of paper,

torn from a patient's chart.

_An eye for an eye_

_a tooth for a tooth_

_my debt to you for taking her life_

_has been repaid_

_Goodbye, Jimmy_

_~House_


End file.
